


The Favored One

by thelittlechampion



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Ghost BC
Genre: Gen, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 12:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14715816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlechampion/pseuds/thelittlechampion
Summary: You are the favored one, and you have screwed up. Papa Nihil is not happy.





	The Favored One

Maybe it was because you spoke against him on occasion. Maybe it was because you decided that you would be allowed to bend a rule, or break it even, and thought you would get away with it since you were the favored one. Maybe it was because on the day you were to read your assigned piece of ancient text in front of him, you stumbled too many times over simple excerpts and were about to be corrected. Regardless of the situation, you knew you had done wrong, and had been called to stand before your Unholy Father.

You were now standing face to face with the eldest Papa of all of them. Papa Nihil, the one who watched over you, to be more precise. And he had a look on his face that could scare a demon down to its very core and shatter it, if he so desired. His dead eyes, glazed over in white as they were, could still see details on your off-white cassock as though he had hand stitched them himself. He noticed things that no one else did, and it was always you that he noticed them on. Small details, pointless to many and not visible unless the one looking knew precisely where to look, but extremely important to him since you were his ward.

Silence filled the air while the dense cold night wind blew angrily outside, a snowstorm threatening to touch down at any time now. The only light was that of the faint dusting from the chandelier above and the warm glow of the candelabras that dotted the hall. He had called you out here, into the empty wing, in the middle of the night where all else was silent. You had been summoned for some reason, but nothing was being said about why. Just icy daggers the colour of stirred milk being stared into you, and nothing else. The deafening, awkward silence was driving you mad. Absolutely batty, you were about to lose your fucking mind if he did not speak to you soon. But you knew. You knew not to speak out of place and question him. Out of turn, before you had been properly addressed and given permission to speak.

“You.” The tense air broke easily as though it had already been so. “Do you know why I called you up here?” His heavy words were almost teeming with the fact that you were expected to know what he wanted. Papa Nihil expected so much out of you, he was sure to praise you when it was due, but now did not feel like one of those times. However, he was expecting a response now.

“No, Papa. I do not.” You dared to reply to him in a quick manner, ensuring that you did not break eye contact with him at any time. He did not have his air can on wheels with him today, he was resting to his right side on his cane today. “Please, tell me.” You asked so little of him. “Tell me why you called me.”

“Because of your failed attempts at reading the preserved, ancient text – the words, the only thing you are required to know! You failed me, you imbecile, you pathetic WRETCH of a would-be GHOUL!” His voice rose like the sea before a storm, angrily and chopping at the cold air around you both. You felt your body react with a twitch, a quick shudder that coursed over your body.

“I… I am sorry, I tried to learn it as best as I could, honest I---” Before you could finish trying to bullshit your way out of this, as you had done so easily many times before, the cold wooden length of his cane cracked against your cheek and turned your head sharply to the left. It stung, worse than anything you had ever encountered with him.

“I want you to recite it to me, now. Perfectly. May the Dark Lord help you, boy.” He spat, angrily brandishing his cane at you with the last few syllables. You turned, trying to hold back just how much that hurt. He had not struck you, no, not ever. He hardly even reprimanded you! Even when Papa Nihil caught you smoking and you burned a hole into your robes, he had never.

“Yes, Papa Nihil…” You said softly, but firm enough that he could discern what you had said. You cleared your throat and stood up as straight as you could. “When the moon aligns properly, the skies darkened and---”

_CRACK!_

Another strike with that wooden cane, this time a bit harder than before. You were holding your cheek now, eyes closed tight from the second wave of pain. “The… The skies will be dark, and the Dark Lord will reign…” You said, stammering to get your piece out of your sore mouth. He nodded, letting you continue. You remembered better now, you were thinking to yourself. Papa Nihil watched, eyes still focused on your lips, your movements, all those little details that had to be perfect. You read aloud, from memory, all your piece, successfully. At the end, as you were to bring your script to a close, your gesture was wrong and another sharp blow was delivered. A second, short after that! And it brought you to your knees in pain. You cried out sharply as he stood before you. There was blood pooling in your mouth and it came dangerously close to dribbling out of you. If he did it again, he would cause you to stain your beautiful white garb.

“You cannot be expected to be MY protégé, and be such a worthless failure. Get up.” You went to stand, but he struck you again. “I SAID GET UP, ONTO YOUR FEET, BOY! GET UP AND LOOK ME IN THE EYE. SHOW ME THE RESPECT I DESERVE FROM YOU!” His voice boomed, and you struggled to stay standing. The blood was staining your robes now, soaking in. You could feel the wetness of your own blood against your skin now. Your eyes watered from the searing pain in your face. You knew you had broken something in your mouth, there was no other possibility. It almost felt as though you would spit out the warm blood in your mouth and a tooth might end up on the floor between you both.

“I am sorry, Papa Nihil. I know I have done you wrong, that I have failed you. I beg you for another chance.” You pleaded, praying to all that was unholy that you would be spared. Others had been killed for less, you recalled, thinking about some who did not share the fate of being the favored protégé.

_CRACK!_

Another blow, and this one brought you once more to your side. Your lip bled now, the warm ruby red liquid trickling down your chin before you could stop it. It was on your front now – how were you going to get those robes clean now? You’d be punished for that later, of course.

“You slovenly boy.” He seemed to have cooled down, at least for the moment. “Red staining your pearlescent white robes, and now you’ve soiled them too. Is there nothing you can do to please me? Failure.” The end of the cane was a tad pointed, and it was poking your shoulder now. You looked up toward him, and he pulled it back, as if to hit you again, but he did not. Instead, he turned it in his hand so that he held the pointed end, and the curved part was under your chin. He used the apparatus to lift your chin, to allow you to look up at him again. The dreaded silence filled the air once again. He took a breath before removing the cane. The loss of blood was making you a bit woozy, so you leaned onto your hand. This seemed to spur something in the old man, because he then lifted his foot and pushed you back. You lay flat on your back now, as though the air was weighing you down now. That foot pressed into your chest, making it harder to breathe.

“Clean yourself up.” He stated, firmly. “Pray to whatever you believe in that you do not disappoint me again, as the next time will be your last time. Understand?” Before you could reply, he pushed his foot against your chest one more time and then away, essentially having walked over you. You lay still, listening to the sound of his footsteps retreating into the still empty hall. The candles had burned out, there was no light left to guide you back to your room and yet you made it back there easily. You lay on your bed wondering if that had truly happened.

 

The blood on your skin told you the truth.


End file.
